Alive With the Glory of Love
by ToGoAndLetGo
Summary: Came to me listening to music, again. Original character and Peter. Inspired, but not a songfic, by Alive With the Glory of Love by Say Anything.
1. Chapter 1

They'd sat in silence for the past few hours. All he could hear was the pound of his heart against his ribcage. It was faster than normal out of fear from the footsteps above them. His hand was gently over her mouth, as she had woken and almost screamed from the surprise of them in the house above. When she relaxed he slipped his hand away, but she stayed curled in his arms petrified to make the tiniest sound if she were to move. He could feel her heart pounding also against the skin of his forearm.

He remembered a time before they were hiding in this basement. When his mother and Willie were still in Germany. When he wasn't a Nazi on the run for helping enemies of the Fuerher. When she used to sing a long as they'd dance together at the Café Bismark, and she'd finish in a beautiful, harmonic laugh that was better than anything Benny Goodman could compose. He remembered when her hair was a shiny mix of brown and blonde under the lights, her eyes sparkled with life and her clothes were bright and new.

She'd been wearing the same red dress since the night they went into hiding. It was now dirty, almost black with dirt and soot from their place under the house. Her hair was tangled and in a messy ponytail behind her head. Her face dirty, her make up long washed away by tears and attempts at bathing in what little water they could manage to sneak in. He knew he looked no better in his tattered uniform that no longer held any Nazi symbolism. He was just as dirty just as she was. He'd told her once that he smelled. She told him she didn't mind and she didn't think he smelled bad. He always smiled at that. Her eyes still sparkled.

Peter knew their days were numbered here. They eventually found everyone who went into hiding. And when that moment came, he knew he'd do everything in his power to keep them from taking her.

"You're a fool Peter." She'd mocked. "What good is saving me if you kill yourself in the process?"

"It'd be worth it. Everything would be worth it if you could get out of here alive." He'd told her.

She laughed softly. "What fun will I have without you?"

He smiled and moved the hair out of her face at the memory. The moment loomed closer where he'd have to make good on his word. The thought of leaving her was getting harder every time she smiled. He marveled at how she managed to smile even now, with her life and his hanging in the balance, depending on silence and luck. He held her against him as the boots stopped as he heard them get near the door. Experience taught them to be quiet at least another hour after the last boot fell on the wood floor above them, just incase.

Analise looked up at him with her pretty green eyes, some smudges of eyeliner from the night they escaped still tracing them. She leaned in, her lips pressing softly against his, her tongue worming her way into his mouth and wrapping around his own. He suppressed the moan that threatened to escape from him, because he wasn't entirely sure the Nazis were gone yet.

An hour later she was asleep again. Her head in his lap, his fingers in her hair and he was just on the edge of consciousness himself. She stirred slightly so that her eyes looked up at him, and he smiled down at her. She took his hand in her own, lacing their fingers together with all the care of a lover.

"Peter," Analise whispered. "When we get out of here, we should go to America."

He laughed. "Sure Ana. We'll go to America."

"Don't placate. I mean it." She smiled.

He nodded.

"And we'll get jobs working in Harlem at the best swing club there is. I'll be a singer. You can tend bar. We can dance together on our breaks and our nights off. And we'll dance our way home in the early morning, under the stars."

"That sounds good." He whispered.

She got on her knees and leaned in, kissing him, pressing him against the wall, the stone cold against his neck and the back of his head. Her fingers went into his hair, his own resting on her waist. There wasn't a thing in the world but him, and her and that cold cellar where they hid. Before he knew it, they were in the throws of making love. And they fell asleep intertwined in each other. Legs and arms tangled together as if for that moment they'd become one, single being. She was curled up against him, her chest against hers. It was almost certain, that their hearts were beating together, in time with one another.

"I won't let them take you." He whispered, it was breathy and muffled by hair.

She ran her fingers along his bicep. "I won't let them take you either. You can't leave me. It won't be worth it to rescue me and be taken yourself."

"Why do you think that?" He lifted her chin.

Her eyes were filled with tears. "Because I love you. I would rather die than know that if they find us and separate us, I lived while you died for my safety. If they catch us, I want to go wherever they have me scheduled to go. At least then I can die knowing I loved. And I died loving."

He felt his nose sting with the tears forming in his own eyes. He stroked her cheek, pushing aside some of her hair so he could look at her face better. Peter leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth.

"I love you too. And I will do anything to save you. Ultimately there's nothing I can do to make you save yourself. I just wish you would… because if they take me, I want to know it wasn't in vain."

"It won't be in vain." She smiled. "You saved me just by doing this. I'd already be dead if you hadn't risked everything for this. And that for me, is enough. This will always be enough."

She snuggled back against him. He stroked her hair, wordlessly. Her confession made him feel bittersweet. She was right. It was pointless to sacrifice himself. It would be ridiculous to imagine that she would be better off with him going off to the work camp or worse for protecting her. In the end, they'd likely find her again and she'd get it ten times worse. She was always right. He kissed her forehead.

"You're right. We'll always have this. And we'll let that be enough. For now."

Fin.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Four months previous_

He was waiting outside her door, impatiently. He knew she'd have to come out and he planned to walk her to school as he had done since the first night they'd met. He could see Thomas down the street looking annoyed and slightly irritated by Peter's haulting of the trip. When Ana never came to the door and they had five minutes to make it before the first bell, Peter figured she was ill today and he and his friend ran off.

On the second day she didn't show he considered that she had a flu or perhaps a cold and it kept her from feeling well enough for classes. On the third day he began to worry until Thursday afternoon when he saw her in the street shopping for groceries. He was with the HJ so made a point not to disrupt her. He'd talk to her later.

She didn't come to any of the clubs that weekend so on Sunday morning, after church, Peter brought what was left of mother's breakfast and knocked on her door. When Analise answered she was in a robe and still looked quite tired and slightly put off.

"Do you know what time it is? Peter you shouldn't be here." She barked.

"I've missed you! Where have you been? You disappeared on me. You haven't been at school and you haven't been dancing… " Peter stepped closer.

She backed further into her home. "I can't see you anymore. Good-bye Peter."

Ana moved to close the door but he stopped it with his hand. "Wait! Why?! Is it because of the HJ thing? I know you hate them and I didn't have a choice… I told you that."

She flinched, and for a moment he saw tears in her eyes. He moved his hand, intending to make a bold move in and wrap his arms around her, sooth her tears. But Ana immediately slammed the door in his face. He stepped back to avoid being hit, almost taking a fall down the stairs. He sighed heavily, looking at it before turning to leave, but was distracted by a piece of paper slipping under the door.

_Tonight at the Café Bismark. Don't be late. This will be the last time I see you. _

Peter looked it over in disbelief. Crumpling it and shoving the note into his pocket, he took off toward home.

When he arrived, she was already there. She sat alone in a corner her eyes fixed on the table in front of her, completely uninterested in the behavior around her. Ana looked miserable, if he had to label it. When he sat with her, she didn't even look at him. She had been crying. Peter could tell by the black streaked tears on her cheeks. Leaning over he lifted her head and wiped her cheeks with his thumb. She jerked away.

"Stop." She hissed.

"Why? What is going on?" He asked sounding confused.

She said nothing, just returned her gaze down. He leaned back in his chair and studied her hoping to get an idea of what was wrong with her by her body language. He got no real read other than it was clearly disturbing.

"Okay. Analise you need to tell me whats going on because the only way I can help is if I know the problem." He finally reasoned.

"You can't help. You won't help. I shouldn't have even come tonight." She got up and headed for the door.

He stood and took her hand but she pulled away from him, shooting a warning look before continuing out of the building. Still a bit put off, but not discouraged Peter followed her out the door. Once outside, he looked for her and jogged to catch up with her head start down the street.

"Ana wait!" He called.

She didn't slow down.

"Ana!"

Peter grabbed her by the hand and turned her to face him, like he'd done in the cafe. This time she didn't pull away or scowl or meet him with anger. This time she buried her face in his chest and began to sob. He pulled her close, holding her against him. Her body shook in his arms, and though he had no idea what was wrong, his instinct was to comfort her.

"Shh, it's okay. Whatever's going on, I'm sure it'll work out." He said softly, rubbing her back.

"It won't work out." She sobbed. "It's never going to work out. They're going to find me and they're going to send me away to God knows where or just kill me and you're in danger just by talking to me! Why don't you get it? Why don't you just go away?"

"Ana… what are you talking about? I love you. Why would I just go away? I don't know what you're saying…"

"I'm Jewish, Peter!" She almost screamed.

If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn the world had just crumbled around them.


	3. Chapter 3

He hadn't spoken to her since her little reveal outside the café but not because he hadn't tried. He'd come over several times trying to get her to talk to him, but she refused to see him And when they began raid homes for Jewish families and round them up to take them to camps, Peter could only hope that Ana was in hiding. Every now and then he would happen by the home and hope that she would peer out the window from behind a curtain to signal to him that she was okay. Though, he imagined it was hard for her to find trust in him now, he was well into his position as an HJ. She hadn't talked to him in weeks, there was no way for her to know if he'd been brainwashed just like Thomas had been.

Peter knew it was only a matter of time before he had to join in the raids himself. He hated the thought of going inside a family's home and kicking them out just because they were different. He hadn't been assigned to arrest Ana's home. He didn't even know that they were next until he happened by as Nazi's broke down the door to go in. He'd never been so happy to be in his uniform.

Following a group of them inside he made his way through the home he was so familiar with, looking around trying to blend in as just another solider following orders. He made a passing remark to one of the other men, saying he'd see if there was an attic, before running up the staircase. He wouldn't have found it if he hadn't seen the Star of David patch dropped on the ground just below it. The string was taped up against the door in the ceiling so it would dangle and give away it's location. Peter jumped up, grabbed the string and pulled down the stairs.

He made his way up the stairs and then pulled them up behind him, once he'd found stable footing in the attic floor. As he turned, he was met with something large and blunt nailing him across the face. He reeled, falling backwards and landing on his butt holding his arms up to shield himself.

"You asshole!" Ana spit. "I trusted you. And here you are to take me away like they took the rest of my family! I hate you!"

"Ana wait!" He called, frantic as she raised her chair leg weapon again to hit him. "I'm here to help you!"

She stared at him, skeptically at first but with shaking arms and her eyes quivering and glassed over with the beginnings of tears, she lowered her arms and put down the broken chair leg.

"How do you plan to help?" She asked, choking on tears.

Peter melted and wrapped his arms around her, slowly because she was still slightly skittish. Her whole body was shaking but she was keeping silent and forcing back her sobs so not to alert the men downstairs to his find of her hiding up here. He rubbed her back soothing her shaken nerves.

"I don't know yet, but I'll find a way to help you." He whispered.

She nodded burying her head into his chest to muffle the sobs she was losing control over. "They came for my family while I was out running errands. When I got home the place was trashed, my family was gone and they'd marked the door. I have been up here ever since, just waiting for them to come back for me."

"You aren't going anywhere." Peter told her. "I won't let them take you."

She looked up at him with tear stained and reddened cheeks, sniffling away the tears she was still trying to fight back. Ana gave him a long, examining stare as if she was trying to read his mind and see what was going through his head. It was almost unnerving and he shifted slightly in his footing.

"Why?" Ana questioned, "Why would you do that? Why would you risk your life to save mine?"

Peter didn't miss a beat. "I'm in love with you."

Ana leaned in on her tipped toes and planted a soft, gentle kiss on his lips. She leaned back down onto the soles of her shoes and looked away. The strong and breave girl he'd always known was replaced with someone blushing and shy, a young girl experiencing her first romance. He smiled at her, taking her cheek in his hand and tilting her head so her eyes met his.

"I'll be back… wait here. Be quiet and hide. I'll come when it's safe. Don't move until you hear the magic words." He told her.

She gave him a smirk. "What are those."

He made his way to the door in the floor that would take him out of the attic. "I love you.

Then he pushed it down and disappeared down the steps.

Peter Mueller had never considered himself a dishonest person. He did his share of little white lies, because he was a teenager and sometimes his mother didn't need to know all his details. So sometimes when his marks were a bit off par, or he was out later than he should be, he told his mother something a little skewed from the truth. He always felt guilty for it later. But as the stairs went back into the ceiling and the string followed, making it invisible again, he could have been the greatest liar. The lie slipped through his lips like a knife through butter.

"There's no one up there." He told the Nazi in charge.

The Nazi looked him over, as if tracing him with an internal lie detector before nodding. "Well then I guess we're done here. She's probably gone by now. If she comes back here, she's the stupidest Jew in Germany."

The comment made Peter's blood run a bit faster and more heated as the anger stayed strangled just below boiling point, so not to give them away. He gave a nod and followed as the commanding officer lead the Nazi troops to the door. On managed to clap him on the back.

"Give it time boy, you'll get to have all the fun too." He said, and then walked off a head.

_Present_

"Peter." Her voice, soft and groggy pulled him back into the current events.

"Yes?" He croaked, his voice horse from lack of use.

"Why are you awake?" She yawned.

"How did you know I was, mein schatzi?" He replied.

Ana sat up and stretched a little, rubbing sleepily at her eyes from her place nuzzled against his chest. She then leaned down beside her, her elbow propping up her arm with her hand holding her head up. She gave him a sleep smile.

"Your heart is fast. When you sleep it's slower."

He smirked. "I was thinking about when you hit me with the chair leg in your attic."

She scoffed. "Oh, let it go Peter."

He laughed and gave hr a peck on the nose. She pecked his lips and ruffled her hair with her free hand.

"I love you." She said softly.

Before he could reply, they heard footsteps above and the creak of the floorboards being pulled up from their place in the floor.

_Mein schatzi my little treasure_


End file.
